The breeze and pastel sundown remind of life
Door slam to same car, in same spot, in same lot
Strange hand drops modified food in squeaky
Cart, and they won't taste like anything
Same faces, same line
Grumpy man makes same cashier cry
We catch eye
And she doesn't remind
Of anything
Same turns, same drive
Lids open, same home
Answer phone, fine, same old
Voice on line doesn't
Sound like anything
Strange hands touch trinkets on dusty shelf
But there are no memories
Chipped edges, ridged wrinkles, don't feel like anything
Strange hands open shades
Trees are bare, scattered warm
Stuffed in bags, piled high
Hadn't noticed anything
Body moves, mouth lies, passion friend and hobby fade
Mind set, decision made
And yet
And yet